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 THERE was nothing now to be dreaded from Dr. Kelman, but it made Curdie anxious, as the evening drew near, to
think that not a soul belonging to the court had been to visit the king, or ask how he did, that day. He
feared, in some shape or other, a more determined assault. He had provided himself a place in the room, to
which he might retreat upon approach, and whence he could watch; but not once had he had to betake himself to
Towards night the king fell asleep. Curdie thought more and more uneasily of the moment when he must again
leave them for a little while. Deeper and deeper fell the shadows. No one came to light the lamp. The princess
 chair close to Curdie: she would rather it were not so dark, she said. She was afraid of something—she
could not tell what; nor could she give any reason for her fear but that all was so dreadfully still.
When it had been dark about an hour, Curdie thought Lina might have returned; and reflected that the sooner he
went the less danger was there of any assault while he was away. There was more risk of his own presence being
discovered, no doubt, but things were now drawing to a crisis, and it must be run. So, telling the princess to
lock all the doors of the bedchamber, and let no one in, he took his mattock, and with here a run, and there a
halt under cover, gained the door at the head of the cellar stair in safety. To his surprise he found it
locked, and the key was gone. There was no time for deliberation. He felt where the lock was, and dealt it a
tremendous blow with his mattock. It needed but a second to dash the door open. Someone laid a hand on his
"Who is it?" said Curdie.
"I told you they wouldn't believe me, sir," said the housemaid. "I have been here all day."
He took her hand, and said, "You are a good,
 brave girl. Now come with me, lest your enemies imprison you again."
He took her to the cellar, locked the door, lighted a bit of candle, gave her a little wine, told her to wait
there till he came, and went out the back way.
Swiftly he swung himself up into the dungeon. Lina had done her part. The place was swarming with
creatures—animal forms wilder and more grotesque than ever ramped in nightmare dream. Close by the hole,
waiting his coming, her green eyes piercing the gulf below, Lina had but just laid herself down when he
appeared. All about the vault and up the slope of the rubbish heap lay and stood and squatted the forty-nine
whose friendship Lina had conquered in the wood. They all came crowding about Curdie.
He must get them into the cellar as quickly as ever he could. But when he looked at the size of some of them,
he feared it would be a long business to enlarge the hole sufficiently to let them through. At it he rushed,
hitting vigorously at the edge with his mattock. At the very first blow came a splash from the water beneath,
but ere he could heave a third, a creature like a tapir, only
 that the grasping point of its proboscis was hard as the steel of Curdie's hammer, pushed him gently aside,
making room for another creature, with a head like a great club, which it began banging upon the floor with
terrible force and noise. After about a minute of this battery, the tapir came up again, shoved Clubhead
aside, and putting its own head into the hole began gnawing at the sides of it with the finger of its nose, in
such a fashion that the fragments fell in a continuous gravelly shower into the water. In a few minutes the
opening was large enough for the biggest creature among them to get through it. Next came the difficulty of
letting them down: some were quite light, but the half of them were too heavy for the rope, not to say for his
arms. The creatures themselves seemed to be puzzling where or how they were to go. One after another of them
came up, looked down through the hole, and drew back. Curdie thought if he let Lina down, perhaps that would
suggest something; possibly they did not see the opening on the other side. He did so, and Lina stood lighting
up the entrance of the passage with her gleaming eyes.
 One by one the creatures looked down again, and one by one they drew back, each standing aside to glance at
the next, as if to say, Now you have a look. At last it came to the turn of the serpent with the long body,
the four short legs behind, and the little wings before. No sooner had he poked his head through than he poked
it farther through—and farther, and farther yet, until there was little more than his legs left in the
dungeon. By that time he had got his head and neck well into the passage beside Lina. Then his legs gave a
great waddle and spring, and he tumbled himself, far as there was betwixt them, heels over head into the
"That is all very well for you, Mr. Legserpent!" thought Curdie to himself; "but what is to be done with the
rest?" He had hardly time to think it, however, before the creature's head appeared again through the floor.
He caught hold of the bar of iron to which Curdie's rope was tied, and settling it securely across the
narrowest part of the irregular opening, held fast to it with his teeth. It was plain to Curdie, from the
universal hardness among them, that they must all, at one time or another, have been creatures of the mines.
 He saw at once what this one was after. The beast had planted his feet firmly upon the floor of the passage,
and stretched his long body up and across the chasm to serve as a bridge for the rest. Curdie mounted
instantly upon his neck, threw his arms round him as far as they would go, and slid down in ease and safety,
the bridge just bending a little as his weight glided over it. But he thought some of the creatures would try
the legserpent's teeth.
one by one the oddities followed, and slid down in safety. When they seemed to be all landed, he counted them:
there were but forty-eight. Up the rope again he went, and found one which had been afraid to trust himself to
the bridge, and no wonder! for he had neither legs nor head nor arms nor tail: he was just a round thing,
about a foot in diameter, with a nose and mouth and eyes on one side of the ball. He had made his journey by
rolling as swiftly as the fleetest of them could run. The back of the legserpent not being flat, he could not
quite trust himself to roll straight and not drop into the gulf. Curdie took him in his arms, and the moment
he looked down through the hole, the
 bridge made itself again, and he slid into the passage in safety, with Ballbody in his bosom.
He ran first to the cellar to warn the girl not to be frightened at the avengers of wickedness. Then he called
to Lina to bring in her friends.
One after another they came trooping in, till the cellar seemed full of them. The housemaid regarded them
'sir," she said, "there is one of the pages I don't take to be a bad fellow."
"Then keep him near you," said Curdie. "And now can you show me a way to the king's chamber not through the
"There is a way through the chamber of the colonel of the guard," she answered, "but he is ill, and in bed."
"Take me that way," said Curdie.
By many ups and downs and windings and turnings she brought him to a dimly lighted room, where lay an elderly
man asleep. His arm was outside the coverlid, and Curdie gave his hand a hurried grasp as he went by. His
heart beat for joy, for he had found a good, honest, human hand.
"I suppose that is why he is ill," he said to himself.
 It was now close upon suppertime, and when the girl stopped at the door of the king's chamber, he told her to
go and give the servants one warning more.
'say the messenger sent you," he said. "I will be with you very soon."
The king was still asleep. Curdie talked to the princess for a few minutes, told her not to be frightened
whatever noises she heard, only to keep her door locked till he came, and left her.